


This Was Your Idea

by Ealasaid, Rexila



Category: Homestuck, MS Paint Adventures, Problem Sleuth (Webcomic)
Genre: Bad Sex, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-03
Updated: 2012-01-03
Packaged: 2017-10-28 19:10:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/311256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ealasaid/pseuds/Ealasaid, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rexila/pseuds/Rexila
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sleuth asks Droog for advice about sex with Slick; Droog reflects on horrible life choices.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This Was Your Idea

**Author's Note:**

> Liz and I aren't allowed to work together anymore. :c - Rexila

“So,” Sleuth said, breaking the slightly awkward silence after the waiter set the plates down in front of them, “Sex?”

“Straight to the point, I see,” Droog responded, poking his pasta.

Sleuth fiddled with his fork. “Well. Uh. It is a business lunch, isn’t it?”

“Business demands that I drop you into the river at the earliest opportunity for distracting Slick.” Droog tasted the sauce and nodded approvingly.

“So what is this, personal?”

“Are you asking if we’re on a date?”

“You’re making this extremely uncomfortable,” Sleuth said conversationally.

“This was your idea,” Droog pointed out.

“Well, I was hoping we could just keep this a sort of business-thing where I buy you lunch at this outrageously expensive place, and you tell me what to do with Slick in bed.”

Droog didn’t do an overly-hilarious spit-take, but there was a moment where he made a slight coughing noise and had to hastily cover his mouth with the linen napkin.

“Oh,” he said, “and you decided the best place for this conversation was the most popular restaurant in the city during lunch hour?”

Sleuth leaned a little to one side to look around Droog, scanning the empty dining room for any patrons that might not have cleared out when they saw one of the Midnight Crew and an avowed enemy dining together.

“...Yeah?”

Droog serenely sipped from his wine glass. “I suggest you find ways to compensate the establishment for the loss of their business.”

Sleuth shrugged, “Eh, I’ll look the other way without a bribe next time they’re investigated for gross health code violations.”

“You magnificently magnanimous human being.”

“Watch out Droog, you might bite your tongue off if you keep flapping your jaws.”

Droog looked at him significantly.

“Um. That is. Uh,” Sleuth scrabbled desperately for something to say to mitigate the minor threat, “Please continue?”

“If you like.” Droog went back to eating with more elegance than Sleuth could ever hope to aspire to owning.

“Ah... Yeah, so, anything I should know about Slick before, y’know,” Droog glanced up in time to watch Sleuth jab a finger into his half-closed fist, “gettin’ it on? Like, preferences, stuff to watch out for, that kind of thing.”

“Such as?”

Sleuth shrugged and leaned back in his chair.

“Like, you’ve seen his teeth, right? Should I be worried?”

 _\--Flashback--_

At the last second, Droog held out his hand and caught Slick’s shoulder.

“You _have_ done this before, right?”

Slick shrugged off Droog’s hand and also his question.

“Yeah, sure, sucked plenty of dick, no problem.”

That was precisely the kind of tone that, if used when discussing heist plans or even just improvisation during a crisis, Droog would immediately shut Slick down.

However, for some unknown and probably _very fucking stupid_ reason, Droog let him go with only a faint feeling of apprehension. Slick was a bit foolish sometimes, but surely he could handle something as simple as this, right?

“Slick-- _Slick!”_

Slick, hearing what was obviously a voice tight with pleasure at his _awesome_ cockwrangling skills, picked up the pace, because that’s what you did when you were on the right track, _duh._

“Your teeth-- _fuck!”_ Droog hissed.

Oh, you liked the teeth, huh Droog? Sure, when he bumped them into Droog’s dick a few times, it had been an accident, but if that’s what he wanted...

The blame for what followed was more on natural reflexes than malicious intent:

As Slick, with more control than anyone would give him credit for, gently brought his teeth closer, Droog panicked and shoved Slick away. Slick, having something in his mouth suddenly ripped away from him, tensed his jaw involuntarily, _just a little,_ and-

**“FUCK!”**

Slick, for once, looked remorseful, accepting that maybe the failure was partly his fault. Droog wasn’t in a state to appreciate that, and might not be for some time.

“Uh... D, buddy, are you, um, are you gonna be okay?”

Droog, curled up in a ball and shaking at the other end of the couch, shook his head and ground out a very strained _“No.”_

Slick bit his lip.

“Then, uh, is there somethin’ I could do, like, do you want some polysp-”

 _“Get. Out.”_

\--

The way Droog’s eye twitched suggested yes, teeth were something to worry about.

“That bad?” Sleuth asked with the faintest amount of sympathy.

Droog took a moment to decide if he was going to answer.

“Have you ever seen a bear trap?” he said levelly.

Sleuth winced and reflexively crossed his legs. He bumped the table rather badly in the process, slopping some of the wine. Droog gave him a look that explained patiently that while he had been judging Sleuth from the moment they met, this was one of the lower points. Sleuth cleared his throat and in a completely and totally calm voice, continued.

“Okay, so. Teeth are something to look out for. Um. Anything else?”

Droog’s default expression was already sort of a frown, but it seemed to get a _little_ deeper.

\--

What had been a quiet night at the hideout was no longer so. It hadn’t been for quite a while, either.

“For the last time: _NO._ Not just _NO,_ but _HELL FUCKING NO.”_

“You opened the conversation with ‘hey we should do it’, where did you _think_ my hand was going?”

 _“You are not sticking your dick in me and you are certainly not going to do ANYTHING with lube near my anus.”_

“Slick, stop being a child. Is it really that difficult to sit down and let me work?”

“Oh, what, you wanna do this? This _is_ supposed to be an enjoyable _fucking_ activity!”

“If we can’t agree on this like goddamn _adults,_ it’s not going to be!”

Slick laughed.

“Oh, _agree,_ huh? Fine, why _don’t_ you let _me_ do the dicking, huh?”

“You think I want to have to _stand for the next week?”_

 _ _“YOU_ want to-- what about _me?!”__

Droog looked at him narrowly. “I have to say I trust my skill more than yours.”

“Fuck you, you don’t know me!”

“I think I do, and I also know I’m not letting you fuck me!”

Slick huffed and crossed his arms, “What, afraid my dick is too big for you?”

Droog tried very, very hard to keep from laughing. Slick glared and punched Droog in the shoulder.

“The hell?”

“Don’t fucking laugh at me!”

“I wasn’t!”

“I could see it in your eyes, you cryptic motherfucker!”

Afterwards, it wasn’t really clear who threw the next punch when and what triggered it. They never agreed on whose fault it was, just that it ended up being another long, sexless night.

\--

“He refuses to let anyone top him,” Droog said to Sleuth after some reflection. He chose his words carefully and condensed the story. “We fought for two hours over it once. I ended up slipping a roofie in his drink when we stopped to take a break.”

Sleuth stared at the mobster in horror. “You _roofied_ Slick?!”

Droog looked at him, one eyebrow raised. “Well. Yes. I was hoping it would help him come to a decision.”

“You drugged him! With roofies! What the hell??”

“I was also a little irritated by that time,” Droog admitted, taking a drink of his wine before adding, “And a little drunk.”

“So you drugged him.”

“You keep coming back to that. Was I not clear?” asked the mobster, irritated, “The roofie just left him giggling in a corner uselessly for five hours. Bad decision.”

Sleuth, in a rare moment of wisdom, just nodded and let it lie.

“Right. Uh. Anything else?”

\--

“You want me to fuck you up?” Droog asked Slick coldly. He was presently engaged in forcing Slick to get on the floor to continue their activities. “You want me to fuck you up so badly you’ll need a wheelchair?”

Slick scowled. “Droog, what the fuck.”

“I’ll cut your legs off if you don’t get on the floor.”

“DROOG. WHAT THE FUCK.”

“Shut the fuck up you dirty slut.”

“Wow, don’t oversell it or anything,” Slick said nastily, and shoved against Droog’s hold a little.

Droog scowled and shoved back. “Look, do you want me to do this or not?”

“Dirty talk was YOUR IDEA.”

“So fucking shut up and let me finish!”

“I would if you weren’t so _bad_ at it!”

Droog punched Slick, sending him sprawling on the floor.

There was a bit of pause that followed, filled only by the sound of their breathing, as what had happened registered. Slick was staring at Droog with a look of shock and anger, and while he certainly deserved getting punched, this session wasn’t going to go anywhere if the damage wasn’t covered.

Droog pinched the bridge of his nose and began his carefully thought-out technical-apology:

“Slick, I-”

Then he was blinking at the ceiling while Slick shook him wildly by the sides of his opened shirt. He was yelling something that was no-doubt ill-constructed and vulgar, but that wasn’t as important as the fact both of his hands were busy, so there wouldn’t be anything stopping Droog from getting revenge for that massive bruise blossoming on his face.

\--

“He doesn’t like dirty talk.”

Sleuth blinked a little at the sudden break in silence. “Oh.” He cleared his throat. “Like, er, what? Just, in general? Or--”

Droog cut him off. “He just doesn’t.”

Sleuth, noticing how Droog was toying with his knife, decided not to push it.

\--

For once, they’d actually made it to the bed. As in, they’d come to an agreement (read: negotiations that had been bitterly hammered out a week ago) about who was topping and what was going to happen, and there hadn’t been any fuck-ups in the foreplay. In fact, things were fine. From Droog’s point of view, anyway.

“You’re going too slow,” snarked Slick, “goddamnit, I’m falling asleep here.”

“Shut up,” Droog said automatically, too busy feeling really good to actually process what Slick was saying.

Slick, who knew when Droog was paying attention and when he was not through many long years of association, hissed in irritation and shoved impatiently against Droog, interrupting the pace Droog had set. “Faster!” he snapped.

“What the fuck?” Droog snarled, “Slick, stop it!”

“Fuck no, you’re slow enough that a turtle could beat your sorry ass. Get a fucking move on, will ya?”

Droog stopped instead, glaring at Slick.

“No seriously, turtles _actually_ fuck faster than you, I’ve seen videos,” Slick went on with a nasty sneer.

“I--” Droog stopped, his brain processing the words that had come out of Slick’s mouth, and picking the logical statement to react to: _“What?_ Where would you even _find_ that?!”

Since it was rare for Slick to stumble upon an awesome comeback, he didn’t let them slip by when he did, regardless if it was a bad idea or not:

“Why, you wanna watch? No wonder you can’t do anything fast, we’ve been trying the wrong things--”

Slick’s voice trailed off to a choked gargle as Droog started to strangle him with his bare hands.

“GAH oh a _-hrrk-_ choking fetish too huhACK shit you are fu-huahGHLG--”

\--

Sleuth really was rather perplexed about the situation. Droog had been staring moodily at the salt shaker for several minutes and hadn’t said a word since the brief warning about dirty talk.

“Droog?” Sleuth ventured hesitantly. “Uh. Hello?”

“There is one thing he likes,” Droog said suddenly. He smiled slightly. “He likes being gagged.”

“...Really?”

“Yes. Failing that, strangulation is a viable alternative.”

Sleuth could only stare.

\--

“Okay, go for it,” Slick said, gesturing at his cock.

Droog regarded it apprehensively, and didn’t do anything else until Slick cleared his throat.

“Well?” he demanded.

Droog’s eyebrows raised slightly, and his eyes moved to Slick’s face.

“Actually, would a handjob be all right?” he said.

Slick’s eyes narrowed.

“What. No! Fuck you, suck my dick!”

Droog sucked in a quick breath and looked at Slick’s junk again.

“I think at this point it’s really the best we can hope for,” he said evenly.

“What?!” Slick said, incredulous, “You were the one who suggested this! You backin’ out _now?!”_

“When was the last time you showered?”

Slick blinked, and crossed his arms.

“What’s that gotta do with anything?”

Droog, gazing at Slick’s face again, arched an eyebrow. Rolling his eyes, Slick relented.

“I dunno, like, a day or two or something, but wh-”

“Yyyyeah, that’s not going in my mouth.”

“Oh, you _big fucking baby!”_

\--

“And make sure he takes a shower,” Droog added after another moment of silence.

“Uhh--”

“Don’t do _anything_ in the hideout, and if I ever catch you in there you won’t live to see the morning.”

\--

Things were going well this time. They had cleared previous hurdles (toothy makeouts, horrible dirty-talk, unstable surfaces, background noise) and were mostly undressed and were going at a reasonable pace when there was a knock on the door.

“Um. Slick?” It was Deuce.

Droog and Slick froze. “What?” Slick barked. “Come on, get moving,” he hissed to Droog in an undertone.

“Slick, I did something...”

“Well what d’ya want me to do about it?” Droog apparently did something right because Slick barely choked back a moan only a second later.

“Can I come in? I can’t explain it so good.”

“What? Fuck no!” But it was too late.

“GET OUT!” Slick shrieked as Droog stopped again and Deuce stared at them in horrified fascination. He pulled out a knife and sent it flying towards the smallest Crew member, who whimpered and ducked out, slamming the door shut.

“Fuck,” Droog said in a strangled voice.

“Come on, are you going to get moving? God how many times do I have to tell you, turtle fucker?”

 _“Turtle fucker--”_

\--

Droog was back to staring into space. Sleuth was starting to wonder if it had been a good idea to even suggest the meeting.

“Also, never let him bring knives to anything,” Droog said suddenly as Sleuth worriedly took a bite out of his hamburger.

Sleuth choked on the burger. “Droog, what the hell did you guys _do?!”_

\--

One moment-- sloppy makeouts. In the next moment, warned by some unusual movement that had no place in a sloppy makeout, Droog had blocked and wrenched Slick’s hand away from him and into view.

After coldly staring at the knife for a few moments, his glare shifted to Slick. Slick looked taken aback, like he was shocked that Droog didn’t take to a surprise knife very well. Or maybe he just hadn’t expected Droog’s other hand to catch him by the neck.

“What. Is. This.”

Slick fell back to his familiar, indignant look.

“It’s called fuckin’ knifeplay, I thought you’d be into kinky shit like that!”

Droog continued to stare at Slick. Slowly, a tight, joyless smile pulled itself across his face.

“Okay, Slick, I’m game,” Droog said coolly, releasing his neck.

However, a card instantly appeared in his hand as soon as it was free, and then that card was a gun. Droog was set to continue demonstrating why surprising your partner with a weapon was a bad idea, but Slick completed it for him by planting a knife into his side.

Silence fell again, as Droog slowly looked at the knife, and then back at Slick. His expression hadn’t changed much, except to look faintly accusatory. Which in Droog-language was _very_ accusatory. Slick raised his knife-free hand.

“You just pulled a fucking gun on me, what did you want me to do?”

“It’s -” Droog resisted the urge to parrot Slick’s words because he’d just been _stabbed_ so this conversation was going to have to be a little more serious.

“Slick, you just stabbed me.”

“You just pulled a _gun_ on me!”

“After you pulled a knife on me.”

“That was different!”

“No it-”

Droog sighed, shut his eyes, and released Slick.

“Fuck this. Get the first aid kit.”

 _“You_ get it.”

The gun went off and Slick yelped, dropped his other knife, and covered his ears.

“Holy _shit_ what is _wrong_ with you?!”

Droog glanced sidelong at Slick, reflecting on his life and choices, and sighed.

“You know, I ask myself the same thing, sometimes.”

\--

“... Make sure never to bring guns, either.”

“You know what, I’m not sure if I want to hear any more of this stuff,” Sleuth said, looking a little green, “I’m not even sure if I want to even do anything with him any more, fuck.”

“Good,” Droog said, and drained the last of his wine. He set his napkin on the table, clearly preparing to leave.

Sleuth realized belatedly that Droog could possibly be telling him all this stuff for the very reason to keep him _from_ doing anything with Slick. Then he started to wonder just how much of this was true and how much of this was Droog’s attempt at mind games. Oh god, what if this all was just Droog playing mind games? He couldn’t risk that. Sleuth would take all of this with a grain of salt, prepare himself for whatever curveballs Slick threw at him... Or maybe he’d... figure out a tactful way of broaching some of this with Slick.

‘Slick does anyone ever joke about gagging y-’ no too upfront, uh, ‘hey you know those _craaazy_ rumours about you and Droog?’ no, that would possibly be bringing up some sore memories or betray that this conversation had happened. Maybe... Eh, he’d work on it later.

For now he still had to wring something more out of Droog, something useful, because it had seriously been twenty minutes and he got like four lines out of the guy, and he wasn’t there for the atmosphere.

“Okay, so...” Sleuth decided to summarize the conversation to see if he’d got it all, “No knives, no dirty talk, no hideout, check pacing, invest in mouthguards, write out contracts for every encounter, and shower beforehand?”

“More or less.” Droog smirked and stood up. “Also, never bring up roleplay...”

With that, the mobster left Sleuth with much less than the detective had hoped for, as well as a terrible mental image of Droog in a schoolgirl outfit.

-  
Epilogue:

As he looked over the bill, Sleuth realized that a much cheaper solution to the problem would have been a set of handcuffs. Fuck.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Fuck No, This Was YOUR Idea](https://archiveofourown.org/works/315867) by [Ealasaid](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ealasaid/pseuds/Ealasaid), [Rexila](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rexila/pseuds/Rexila)




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